


Part of everything I do

by JohnLockDivision



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (And maybe Mrs Holmes too), (Only Sherlock and John really), (The rest are just kinda in passing), AU, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Magical Realism, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnLockDivision/pseuds/JohnLockDivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You're still a part of everything I do<br/>You're on my heart just like a tattoo' Jordin Sparks, Tattoo</p><p>From a Tumblr post; 'Soulmate AU where you wake up on your 18th birthday with the first words your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your body so you’ll know them when you meet them' and this sort of...happened.</p><p>John's words circled his shoulder, where one day a bullet would leave a scar.<br/>Sherlock's sat above his heart, reminding him that he had one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John's story

Staring in the mirror upon his 18th birthday, John Watson was unsurprised to note that three words had suddenly appeared on his forehead overnight.  
Since a young age, everyone knew that the words that appeared on your eighteenth birthday were the very first words you would hear from your soulmate, whether you liked them or not.  
John was just grateful that his weren’t the ever useful ‘Good morning’, although the positioning could be better – the forehead where they currently resided far too conspicuous.  
Knowing they would soon settle into their rightful position, somewhere on his body that would mean something at some point, John watched mesmerised as they slid down his face and neck, seemingly spiralling on his left shoulder.  
Knowing there was nothing else to be done at this point, John joined his family for breakfast.

oOo

It was shortly after his 18th birthday that John heard about Desert Storm, putting two and two together to realise the significance of his words.   
Admittedly it would take another 10 years before war broke out in Afghanistan, but in that time John became an army doctor, moved through the ranks and had his fun while he could; visiting bookies and casinos, having sex with anything that moved (earning him the nickname of ‘Three Continents’) and betting his army buddies that not only would there be a war in Iraq as well as Afghanistan, but they would be there to witness it.  
Of course, with the declaration of war came the sick sense of foreboding which led to fewer nights in the pub (or someone’s bed) and more nights spent on the firing range, preparing for whatever might come. 

oOo

At times, the words were the only thing that got John through his time in Afghanistan.   
He had always known that he would not meet his soul mate until he had been drafted, and they would be back home, safe, somewhere.  
Of course, the words were no guarantee of safety; he had seen far too many young men and women killed, never having met their soulmates. However, the words kept John hoping that he would indeed meet his mysterious second half, who would be able to somehow tell where he had been.

oOo

Each time John met someone new on leave, he made sure to choose his opening words with care; he had come to realise that far too many people asked where he was serving while in his uniform.   
However, soon John gave up all pretences of looking for his soulmate, instead just going in with a smile and a compliment and leaving with a quick shag and a phone number he’d never use.

oOo

“Please God, let me live...let me meet them, just once. Please...”

oOo

Since returning home, John no longer met new people, and if he did he had no hopes they were his soulmate; they never asked where he was served, never even recognised him as a soldier.   
After all, he wasn’t one anymore; he was simply a broken man trying to help sick people and trying to forget about the gun in his drawer.  
In fact, he barely saw anyone at all, except his therapist and landlord. He barely saw his sister anymore, unforgiving at the fact that she had her soulmate, and yet still screwed it up.  
It wasn’t a surprise then when he found himself speeding up when he heard a man call his name, although something made him stop and take up the offer for coffee.  
Mike ‘I got fat’ Stanford then changed John’s world by offering him a flatmate. 

oOo

Walking into the lab, John couldn’t help but comment on the difference since he had attended Bart’s, before turning his eyes to his apparent flatmate, noticing how striking he was.  
If this man noticed him, he made no sign, as he addressed Mike, asking for his phone.

“Here, have mine.” 

John held his phone out to the man, and was suddenly entrapped by a pair of steely eyes that seemed to cut John in two, stripping him back to his core.  
John realised he was still staring into this man’s, this stranger’s, eyes when Mike coughed nervously.  
The man seemed to shake himself, straightening up and walking away, texting as he did so.  
If it wasn’t for the words that he said next, John might have been lost in his voice.  
However, the words that the man said next were the very words that John had been staring at for the last 18 years, the words that kept his going through the war and the only reason he had not used the gun waiting in his bedroom.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”


	2. Afghanistan or Iraq?

John felt as if all the air had left the room, and his voice was suddenly hoarse.

“What?” he croaked out, unsure of what he had just heard.

“I said, Afghanistan or Iraq? It’s a simple question really. Oh really, don’t look so shocked, it’s simple enough...”

John realised that the man had turned and was now walking towards him once again, barely remembering to breathe as he listed things he couldn’t possibly know.

“I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from either Afghanistan or Iraq. I also know you've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently ruined his relationship with his soulmate, and of course you haven’t met yours yet, so you’re probably taking it harder than you should. And of course you’ve got a therapist who has correctly diagnosed a psychosomatic limp – well done her. And yet, you still look shocked.”

The stranger thrust John’s phone back at him, moving to pull on his coat.  
John couldn’t let this man leave yet though – not until he knew for sure.

“You...what you just said, what you just did. It was amazing...I mean...how?”

“Honestly, John, and yes I know your name is John from your texts. It’s all there if you’d only look – your posture, your haircut, your tan, your conversation as you entered the lab, as well as the fact that Mike seems to have left you here,”  
Looking around John noticed that Mike had indeed left him and this strange, incredible man (who was still talking) alone.  
“...and of course everything else is on your phone...but that’s not what you meant is it? What did you mean?”

The man crowded into John’s space, once more staring into his eyes with a fierce concentration.  
John straightened his back and plunged in.

“Your first words.”  
“Afghanistan or Iraq.”  
“Yes, I am aware, in fact I have been staring at them for the last 18 years.” John smiled, waiting for the man to catch up.

It took a while, as it seemed as though the man was malfunctioning, eyes blinking at a hundred miles an hour, simply staring at John.  
“I don’t suppose I could know your name?” John ventured, reaching up to brush back a curl from the man’s forehead.  
“Uh, Sherlock. It’s...Sherlock. Holmes. Sherlock Holmes” The man – Sherlock – stuttered, reaching up to hold John’s hand, before pulling it down to grasp in an imitation handshake.  
“I’m John Watson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Sherlock then graced John with a smile that could send him to his grave a happy man, before whirling out of the lab in what John would come to know as a very Sherlockian fashion, shouting out an address and a time, flashing John a wink and a smile as he did so.

John couldn't hold back his own smile, laughing to an empty room, before walking back to his flat like a dream, thinking the whole time about the incredible man he was destined to be with.


	3. Sherlock's story

On the eve of his 18th birthday, Sherlock didn’t sleep.  
He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for – either to watch the words appear, or just confirm what everyone (his parents, his schoolmates, the doctors) suspected – that he was a sociopath.

At the stroke of midnight Sherlock watch transfixed as the skin on his forehead seemed to ripple beneath his curls.  
Pulling his hair back, Sherlock watched as black seemed to rise out of his skin, forming words that, currently, had no context.

Sighing in relief, Sherlock let go of his hair, watching as the words slid from his face to settle upon his heart. Peering in the mirror once more, Sherlock realised that now the words were backwards – not meant for him to read, but for others, although Sherlock had no intention of showing others – instead he would conceal them from the world. Let them believe what they wanted.

oOo

Sherlock had not always been so adverse to the tattoos – his mother and father had gladly shown him theirs (a boring ‘How may I help you, Miss’ and ‘Pardon me, Sir,’ respectively). He had listened eagerly as Mycroft had explained the words to him when he was five, and read as much about them as he could in preparation, thinly hiding his jealousy as Mycroft received his when Sherlock was 11.  
However, by the time he had reached his 13th birthday, his father had left his mother for a woman who he supposed to be his real Soulmate (after all, how many other ‘Seiger Holmes’ were there to be ‘at your service’?), and Sherlock realised that there were flaws in the system.  
Therefore, he had adopted the mantle of ‘sociopath’ – easy enough at a new school – and sworn to himself that he would never be so foolish as to risk his heart.

oOo

Sherlock’s mother was unsurprised when Sherlock did not come to breakfast the next morning, he rarely did, and made no secret that she would love Sherlock all the same, regardless of what his words said.  
Of course, when he told her he didn’t have any words, she was shocked, but seeing his face was reminded of the 5 year old boy sitting upon her lap, playing with the words on her wrist, or the 12 year old watch his father leave, and she suddenly realised what he was doing.  
Gathering him into her arms, she murmured words of encouragement, kissing his curls and reassuring him that he didn’t have to have words yet, but they would ‘appear’ when he met his soulmate.

oOo

Sherlock managed to stick by his plan throughout school and into University, when it all went wrong.

oOo

First there was Victor.  
Victor’s first words to Sherlock were not those on his chest, but somehow he still got past Sherlock’s defences, and Sherlock found himself with a friend.  
Neither of them made any secret of the fact that they were not soulmates, but their friendship still developed into a romance, until one year Victor left for summer, and never returned - having found his own soulmate in America of all places.  
Sherlock was hit badly by the news – hating himself for being so naive.  
Once more he shut himself away from his emotions – rebounding with sex, drugs and painful violin solos.  
It was during the first that Sherlock met Sebastian, who led him to the second.  
By the time Sherlock left university, his heart had been shattered by Victor, his body ruined by Sebastian and his trust destroyed by both.

oOo

Stumbling back to his flat one night, he had encountered a crime scene, a policeman by the name of Lestrade and the possibility of a future if he could only clean himself up.  
It took a long time, but eventually Sherlock got there; travelling to America to make his peace with Victor (and of course just happened to solve a few cases while he was at it), cutting off all contact with his suppliers and making a begrudging peace with his brother.  
However, no matter how many cases he solved, songs he wrote or deductions he made, he couldn’t take his mind off the words on his chest.

oOo

Sherlock was just analysing the gravel for the latest case when Mike walked in with an old friend from his university days, if their conversation was anything to go by.

“Mike, may I borrow your phone?” 

Of course Mike had forgotten it, as useless as he was.   
Noticing the man (Soldier/doctor/just home) reaching for his pocket, Sherlock stood to walk towards him, already anticipating the offer of his own phone.

“Here, have mine.”

The words froze Sherlock where he was stood, grasping the phone in his hand and staring this short, unassuming man, deducing as much as possible.  
He couldn’t possibly be –   
A nervous cough drew his attention back to proceedings, and Sherlock straightened up, texting Lestrade as he walked away.  
Only one way to see for sure...

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”


	4. "Here, have mine."

Hearing the question in the man’s voice (John...he was called John), Sherlock frowned, results inconclusive, and turned, preparing himself for what he was about to do.

“I said, Afghanistan or Iraq? It’s a simple question really. Oh really, don’t look so shocked, it’s simple enough,”

And then Sherlock did what had gotten him in trouble so often before; he listed his deductions, pulling on his coat as he did so, preparing for a hasty exit.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, is what appeared to be admiration.

Noting that Mike had left them alone, Sherlock stepped closer to John, explaining his deductions as he did so.  
“...but that’s not what you meant is it? What did you mean?”

Sherlock couldn't decipher the look on John’s face; he seemed impressed, amazed by Sherlock’s deductions rather than the anger that Sherlock was used to. His mouth was fighting a smile, and yet he still seemed on the verge of shock.  
“Your first words.”  
“Afghanistan or Iraq.”

Could it be possible? Was this man...

“Yes, I am aware, in fact I have been staring at them for the last 18 years.”   
And there it was – the confirmation.  
Even though Sherlock had been waiting for it, it still took him a moment to fully understand what this meant.  
In fact, it took him a moment to respond to John’s request to know his name, feeling as though in a dream as he reached to hold John’s hand.  
“I’m John Watson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Sherlock understood what his mother had meant now, how suddenly his soulmate has removed his walls within minutes.  
Unable to suppress his smile, Sherlock realised there was so much to do – taking Mrs Hudson up on her offer of a flat for one.

Telling John when to meet him, Sherlock left the lab before he could do something ridiculous, like kiss this virtual stranger, hearing John’s laughter as the door shut behind him.


End file.
